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one to tell her. I wanted her to say she understood, even if she didn't. In short, I wanted it all.
    But it was soon clear to me I wasn't going to get it. We walked out along the bank of the river that ran through the grounds, a chill, grey East Anglian mist turning the players on an adjoining hockey pitch to wraiths and the school building beyond them to a ghostly outline of the country house it had once been. Beside me, huddled in her uniform duffel coat and striped scarf, Amy looked too young and trusting to be burdened with what I had to tell her. But tell her I did, as gently as I knew how.
    "Surely', she said disbelievingly, 'everything was all right at Christmas."
    "This has happened since Christmas, Amy. I've simply met somebody I realize I can't live without. It's not easy. These things happen. People change. They grow apart."
    "Is that what you and Mum have done?"
    "Sadly, yes. But it doesn't mean we love you any less. Either of us."
    "You just won't be together any more?"
    "No. I'm afraid we won't."
    "Are you going to get divorced?"
    "Eventually."
    "And then you'll marry this other person you've met?"
    "I hope so. Her name's Marian. You'll like her."
    "No, I won't."
    "Come on, Amy. You've never met her. How can you say that?"
    "I don't want to meet her."
    "You'll change your mind. This isn't the end of the world."
    "But it means nothing will ever be the same again. Quite a few of the other girls have divorced parents. And that's what they say. It alters everything. Spoils it. Makes it... complicated."
    "Life is. I wish it didn't have to be. But it is."
    "It didn't have to be with .. . Nicole." Amy stopped. "Did it?"
    "Who told you about Nicole?" I said, taken aback to discover that my efforts to shield her from the truth five years before had evidently been in vain. "Your mother?"
    "Nobody told me, Dad. I just listened. I think I do that better than you."
    "Maybe you do."
    "But it's not going to be like it was then?"
    "No, Amy. It isn't."
    "I'll just have to get used to the idea?"
    "We all will. But remember. What the other girls have told you isn't quite true. It doesn't alter everything. I'll still love you. You'll still be able to count on me when it matters."
    "Will I?"
    "Oh yes." I hugged her and sensed her struggling not to cry. "As fathers go, you could do worse, believe it or not."
    "I believe it." She pulled away and forced herself to smile. "Honest I do."
    "Just not a lot worse, eh?" I aimed an elaborately slow punch that landed on her nose as softly as a butterfly. When she was younger, she used to squeeze her eyes shut and giggle as my fist approached. But she was older now. This time she kept her eyes open. And she never even came close to laughing.
    A strained discussion with Amy's house tutor, late-running trains and a more than usually chaotic rush hour in London meant it was early evening before I got back to Parsons Green. To my surprise, Tim wasn't home yet. I let myself in with the spare key and seized the chance to telephone Marian. I was badly in need of her reassurance that the damage I was strewing round so blithely had a purpose as compelling for her as for me. But she was out, maybe walking off the same impatience I felt for our rendezvous at Lacock, maybe just having an early dinner. Guessing what I might do in her shoes, I rang the Schwarzenberg and persuaded them to page her. But she wasn't there either. I gave up and decided to try the Imperial again later.
    Before I got the chance, Tim arrived, looking like a man with something to worry about. And pretty soon I had something to worry about as well.
    "I developed your Viennese films."
    "How'd they come out?"
    "They didn't."
    "What do you mean?"
    "There's nothing on them. All six films are blank."
    "Blank?"
    "The whole lot were exposed. It's as if you had the back of the camera open when you wound on. Every frame's a blackout. There's nothing there. Not a single picture to prove you even went to Vienna."
    "What have you done?" I shouted,